Out of the Past
by aurora borealis1
Summary: Logan get's an unexpected visitor, who has traveled through time...: He finds himself in charge of a sixteen year old sister. Poor Wolvie...
1. An unexpected guest

Disclaimer: Yes, yes, I don't own the X-men, they belong to Marvel, blah blah blah ****

Disclaimer: Yes, yes, I don't own the X-men, they belong to Marvel, blah blah blah...

****

A/N: This is my first attempt at an X-men fic, so don't flame me. And if I don't get more than ten reviews, I won't post the next chapter. So there! And if you don't like my story, you can say that in your review, but I want some reasons. Flames just prove how dumb you are. Constructive critisism is welcome. And I know that I may get Logan's accent wrong and so on, but remember that I'm not from an English speaking country. Now... aurora borealis presents..(drums)..

****

Out of the Past

Chapter One: An unexpected guest

Logan was in a bad mood. That is, by his fellow X-men's point of view, worse than usual. Why he was in a bad mood, he didn't know. Maybe it had something to do with Cyclops preventing him from killing Sabretooth in their last operation...

When Logan was in a bad mood, there was only one thing to do. Go to a bar and pick up a fight.

So here he was, racing down the high way towards Hardcase's.

Logan parked his Harley in the row of motorcycles in front of the bar. Loud voices penetrated through the door. The noise abruptly stopped as Logan walked in, but started again as if nothing had happened. Some people was watching Logan with narrow eyes as he walked over to the bar, but he ignored them.

"One beer, Charlie," he said gruffly, sitting down on his usual stool. The bartender gave him the beer. "Quiet tonight?" Logan said.

"Yeah," Charlie said. In the distance, there was a loud brumming noise. Logan strained his keen ears. Another Harley. Didn't sound like the usual, though... The Harley stopped outside the bar. The door opened. The room went deadly quiet. Walking in was a blonde girl, maybe seventeen years old. She had black tightfitting flared jeans, a black leather jacket hanging open to reveal a black tank top, and her hair was tied back in a jumbled bun. She walked over to the bar and sat down beside Logan, every pair of eyes following her.

"One lemon soda," she said to the bartender. "With ice."

Logan sniffed in her scent out of habit. There was something strangely familiar about it...

A burly man went over to the bar and said to Logan in a commanding tone:

"You're sitting on my seat." Logan looked at him with a calculating look. _Could give me a nice enough fight,_ he thought. _'Specially if those two friends of his came along..._

"I ain't seein' no name tag," he replied, fake consentrasion on his beer. The burly man narrowed his eyes.

"Now, you lisn' here, man," the Burly Man said, obviously drunk. "I wanna sit on that seat, an' if you don' get outta my way right now, I'm gonna have ta force you."

Logan waited another minute, so that the Burly Man had time to raise his hand. Then he quite calmly drove his elbow into the man's stomach. The Burly Man doubled over, gasping. His friends immediatly rose up from their seats, advancing on Logan, cracking their knuckles. Then Logan cracked their hands for them. They went screaming to the floor in shock.

"Call an ambulance, wouldya?" Logan said calmly to the bartender, as if this was normal. But then, it was. "Newcomers," Logan muttered. "Always judgin' by the size..."

"You must be Logan," the girl said to Logan.

"Yeah," Logan said. Then he narrowed his eyes, looking at her. "Do I know ya, darlin'?" The girl grinned.

"I doubt it, _darlin',_" she said, her piercing blue eyes glinting. "I'm yer sister."

***

"Nice place," the girl (she called herself Sara) said when they drove up to the Mansion. Ororo greeted them with a surprised face.

"Logan, are you back so soon? Who's this?"

"Storm, I need to talk to Chuck," Logan said, going through the hall at a swift pace, Sara tagging in his heels. Storm looked curious at them for a moment, before she followed after them.

"Chuck?" Logan said, knocking on a door with a tag named _Professor Charles Xavier._ "Chuck, ya in there?"

"Come in," Charles said. Logan and Sara went inside his office. "What is it, Logan?" He looked at Sara with a raised eyebrow.

"Er..." Logan said, clearly gathering his thoughts. "This girl claimes to be my sister."

"I _am_ yer sister," Sara said.

"Ah," Charles said. "What is your name, child?"

"Sara. An' I'm _not_ a child."

"Of course. Tell me about yourself, Sara. When were you born?"

"I was born in...1749, I think."

"Then why are you here now?"

"I escaped through a..door of light, when English soldiers attacked our farm. The English and the French settlers was still warring. I came out of the portal, just to find that over 200 years had passed without me. After that, I've been searchin' for my brother," Sara concluded.

"I see," Charles said, tapping his nose. "How old were you when you came through this portal?"

"Thirteen."

"But why have you been searching for your brother? He must have died after some years, don't you think?" Charles asked. Sara smiled.

"No. Not my brother. He can't die."

"Why not?"

"He never gets hurt. I mean, the wounds just close up again. An' he never gets sick. 'Sides, I checked the...society register? (A/N:Is that right?) an' he wasn't written amongst the dead. So I thought: If he can't get sick, he can't get old."

"Mm-hmmm." Charles smiled,and turned towards Logan. "This seems reasonable – if you can use such a word in such a situation. Did you have any sisters, Logan?"

Logan shrugged. "Sorry, Chuck. I haven't got the most reliable memory, ya know."

"Yes, that is true... I will have Hank run some tests. Tell me, Sara," he said as an afterthought, "do you perchance have any mutant abilities?"

Sara grinned. "Not counting that I can camouflage myself like, for example, a wall? No."

***

"Hi everybody. This is Sara, my sister. Sara, this is everybody. First one to laugh will be the one gettin' free ticket to Hank's lab. In a dust bin."

Place: The kitchen in the Mansion.

Time: Dinner.

Speaker: Logan. (Duh! Who else?)

Situation: Logan is presenting his sister to his 'colleagues'.

There was a moment of silence, while everybody looked stunned at Logan and Sara. Then the conversations slowly started again.

"Come on," Logan muttered to Sara, sitting down at a free seat.

"Uh, sure," Sara said, reluctantly sitting down beside him.

"Hey! Logan! Send me the potatoes, would ya?" Bobby called down the table. Logan handed the potatoes to Jean, who 'handed' them to Bobby.

"So," said the man facing Logan across the table. "You have gotten yourself a little petit, no?"

"I'm not a 'little petit'," Sara replied. "I'm his sister."

"Ah," Remy said, clearly unconvinced.

"So hands off," Logan growled.

"Moi? You hurt me, Logan," Remy said, faking a shocked expression.

"An' I'm not sorry fer it."

"So, tell me about yourself, petit," Remy said, turning towards Sara. "How did you end up in company wit dis...gentleman here?" He nodded at Logan.

"I'm telling ya: I'm his sister! An' t' answer yer question: I came through a time portal from the war b'tween the French and English settlers."

"Den you would know a bit French, no?"

"I guess."

"_Voulez-vous voudrais une promenade romantique sous les etoiles avec moi, Cherie?_" Remy leaned forward, smiling his most charming smile at her.

"Do ya want to stroll under the stars an'..." Sara stopped abruptly, looked at Remy, and slapped him in the face.

"He botherin' ya, darlin'?" Logan turned towards her.

"I can handle it," she said, her face flushed. He looked at her.

"If ya say so, darlin'." He turned towards his conversation with Ororo again.

"Dat hurt, you know," Remy said.

"Are ya always this blunt?" Sara asked.

"Normally de girl doesn't understand what I say."

"I _see._ Well, sorry, bub, I normally don't take a midnight romantic stroll with guys I've only spoken too for one minute."

Logan, who only now started paying attention, turned his head abruptly. "WHAT?!"

"Uh-oh," Remy said.

***

It was Saturday morning: Sara's first day at the Mansion. And her first fight with Logan – if you didn't count the fit he had at dinner the previous night.

"AND I'M TELLIN' YA TO DO AS I SAY!" Logan yelled.

"HEY!" Sara yelled, equally high-voiced. "I AIN'T CHANGIN' MY STYLE JUST BECAUSE YA GET A BROTHERLY FIT EV'RY TIME I TALK TO A GUY!"

"OH YEAH?!"

"YEAH!"

"Ok, I wasn't quite convinced last night that they were brother and sister, but now..."

"I'm convinced."

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"Absolutely."

The X-men looked at the fight before their eyes. Logan and Sara was standing inches apart, both crackling with rage: Logan in his usual battered jeans and shirt, Sara still in her silk pyjamas – deep blue with stars and moons in on. They were in Sara's room, and it looked like Logan had made an attempt at throwing her clothes out the window.

"CHUCK GAVE ME THE RESPONSIBILITY T' LOOK AFTER YA NOW WHEN YA GET YER TRAININ' HERE TO BE AN X-MAN! AN' I AIN'T LETTIN' YA WALK AROUND LIKE A...A...BIKER GIRL!"

"SO WHAT?!" Sara screamed up in his face, hitting a finger at him. "JUST BECAUSE I FIND YA, DON'T MEAN YA CAN RULE MY LIFE! I'VE MANAGED TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF JUST FINE 'TIL NOW! AN' DON'T YA CRITIZISE THE BIKER GIRL STYLE! 'CAUSE I LIKE IT! AN' JUST SO YA KNOW IT, YER USIN' THE BIKER _BOY_ STYLE, SO YA'VE GOT NUTHIN' TO COMPLAIN ABOUT!"

Logan seemed ready to explode. "Have you ever seen him so angry?" Hank asked Jean.

"Nope," she said. The two people inside the room seemed to notice the audience just then.

"GET OUT!!!!" they screamed simultaneously at them, and slammed the door in their face.

The X-men looked at each other, shrugged, and waited outside, listening to the shouting clearly hearable through the door.

After about ten minutes, Logan burst out of the door, almost knocking over Scott.

"What're ya standin' there for?" he asked them angrily. Then he went storming to his own quarters. "I'm gonna take a shower," he stated.

His fellow X-men looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"Poor Logan," Rogue said, shaking her head. "He's in for a _very_ hard time..." The others nodded their agreement.

A/N: Sooo, what d'ya think? Good? No good? Horrible? Really great? Read&Review, my fellow X-weirdos. And I repeat: If I don't get more than 10 reviews, I ain't posting no chapter 2... And don't flame me because of Logan's accent. Thank you.


	2. BSNS problems and a talk about RBACLFG p...

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men, the only one I own is Sara

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men, the only one I own is Sara. Blah blah blah...

A/N: Thanks to everybody who has reviewed. I just have to say 'Wow'. I mean, I never thought I would get so many reviews so soon. Thank you guys, you're the best! ^_^ And since I love reviews and all the people who review (I even like constructive critisism), here's the 'thank you' list: witchlite, emily (thanks a lot to you!^_^), Mr Sinister, Thunder Angel, Oonagh, Butterfly(hey, I've experienced that it's the most effective way to get reviews, so...) Summer (no, I don't think it's Logan/Ororo...sorry...), Kitty, wild cat(splendid idea! I'll try it out sometime later in the story...^_~), Shane, Ladybugg, No one(although I would have written my name), Jackie, chris vogler, Rin Berry, Chili(hey, that's really flattering), Cilia, Magnolia Belle, Angel of the Dark Moon, RAP, cardboard tom, rayvn,

Oh yeah, and Rogue is only seventeen in this story. Remy is twenty, I think. Just so that you know it. And don't object: It's _my_ story! Therefore: _my_ rules.

Anybody who wonders what BSNS stands for: It's 'Brothers Should Not Smoke'. RBACLFG is the abbreviate for 'Remy Being A Charming Little French Git'. So there. And I know that Remy's a Cajun (at least an adopted Cajun) but I liked 'French' better...,

So. That done. Now....(drums)

****

Out of the Past

Chapter Two: BSNS problems and a talk about RBACLFG problems

Logan had a headache. Teoretically, he couldn't have one because of his healing factor. But know Logan learned – the hard way – that headaches not born out of physical contact or exercise was immune against his healing.

The name of his headache was Sara DeLougaisville. He had a feeling that he had become a babysitter – although _this_ baby was just as stubborn (and other things he didn't want to confess to himself he was) as he.

They – Logan and his headache – were sitting in a café somewhere in Manhattan. Charles had 'suggested' that Logan should take Sara on a guide tour around New York, which he grudgingly agreed to do. At least he would get away from his snickering comrades-in-outlaw for a while... Now, though, he wondered if it was such a good idea. Sighing, he lit a sigar. Sara stopped looking out of the window and instead turned her icy blue eyes on her brother.

"Ya shouldn't smoke," she said accusingly.

"Not yer problem," Logan replied, inhaling deeply.

"I don't like it," Sara repeated, narrowing her eyes.

"Yer used ta guys who smoke. What's wrong with me doin' it?"

"Yer my brother," Sara said, piercing him with her stare.

"So what?" _Damn. Those eyes are creepy._

"An' smokin's bad for the health."

Logan barked a short laugh. "That ain't a problem fer me, now is it?"

"Who ever talked about _ya_? Ever heard 'bout passive smokin'? Ye're damagin' my health, _Pierre._"

"Don't call me Pierre."

"It's yer name."

"Nope. My name's Logan."

"Yeah. Guess yer English friends couldn't pronounce yer name."

"If ya don't like 'Logan', call me Wolverine."

"Right. Yer code name. Now ain't that one surprisin'. Suits ya well, brother."

"I don't like yer tone, darlin'."

"My heart's smashed. I'll call ya 'Wolvie', then. Not as bad as 'Wolverine'."

Logan jumped a little. He remembered another girl who called him 'Wolvie'. Jubilee... he hadn't thought about her in a while. She had leaved the X-men a year ago (when she had turned 18), wanting to try out being by herself. The first half year they had received regular letters, but during the 8th month they had suddenly stopped. Respecting Jubilee's privacy, they hadn't gone to check on her... How would she react when she learned about him having a sister? He grinned. They would either be best friends or hate each other...

"What're ya grinnin' at?" Sara asked, again piercing him with her stare.

"Huh? Nothin'." Logan looked at his watch. "Time ta go, darlin'."

"Sure, darlin'," she replied. "Oh, an' Wolvie," she said before they started their bikes. "That smokin'..."

***

"So, how was the trip?" Hank asked.

"I din't die, did I?" Logan answered, still polishing his Harley.

"I shurely hope not. I just came here to say that I have finished the tests. Do you want to.."

"Spill it."

"Right. Well, you are brother and sister. But there is a minor problem..."

"What is it, Hank?" Logan looked up from his bike.

"It isn't actually a problem, but- what's that in your mouth?"

"Get to the point, Hank," Logan sighed.

"Well, since you're her nearest relative still alive, and she's a minor, you have to be her guardian."

"WHAT?!" Logan stared at Hank with a mix of shock, disbelief and horror. "I have ta be her _guardian_?! Hank, I can't take care of a kid!"

"First of all, she's not a child, Logan," Hank said calmly. He had expected such a reaction. "She's sixteen."

"Even _worse_."

"Besides, since you don't excactly have a job or apartment, she'll live at the Mansion."

"But I can't take care of her."

"Of course you can. And if we make her an X-man, you won't need to."

"All right," Logan said grumpily. Then he noticed Hank's look at him. "What're ya starin' at?"

"Logan, what is that in your mouth?" Hank was on the brink of laughing.

"Don't ya _dare_ laugh," Logan said warningly.

"I won't laugh."

"It's a _psssstpssst,_" Logan whispered.

"What?" Hank looked confused at him.

"It's a lollipop," Logan hissed. Hank looked at him with a expression of utter disbelief.

"A _lollipop?_ Why would you eat a _lollipop_?"

"Sara forced me to. She doesn't allow me to smoke."

"Right," Hank said, trying not to smile. "What did she treaten to do?"

Logan muttered something.

"What?" Hank leaned closer.

"She said she would explode my Harley," Logan said. Hank looked at him sternly. "_And_ date with Gambit wearing a tennis uniform."

Hank looked at him with sudden understanding. "Poor you," he said.

"Yup. Poor me."

"Let's get a beer, shall we?"

"Yup."

"Can I laugh?"

"Nope."

***

"Take _that! _And _that_ and _that_ and _that_!!"

Place: Work out room at the Mansion

Time: Late evening Saturday night (four weeks since Sara's arrival at the Mansion)

Speaker: Sara

Situation: She's smashing a punching ball to bits

She paused a little, looking at the tattered punching ball. She shrugged, and started delivering kicks.

"Man, sugah," a voice from the door said. "What're yah all worked up for?"

"It's _Logan_," Sara said, kicking the punching ball to punctuate it. "He refused ta take me along to Hardcase's." A series of kickes. "He thinks I'm just a kid."

"Yah ain't a kid," Rogue protested.

"That's what I'm tryin' ta tell him."

"Say, Sara," Rogue said. "Yah wanna go tah town with me?"

Sara stopped abruptly in mid-punch and spurred around. "Ya mean, go to the movies or somethin'?" She ducked under the flying punching ball.

"Yeah," Rogue smiled.

"Sure. I just have t' take a shower first."

"Great, sugah."

***

"So, where d'ya wanna go?" Sara shouted to Rogue. They were sitting on Sara's bike, Rogue behind Sara. (If they had taken a car from the garage they probably would've been grounded a couple of years. Sara thought it a good idea, but Rogue protested: 'Can yah drive it? Ah sure can't, and Ah don't wanna crash it into tha Blackbird.' So they had taken Sara's motor bike instead.)

"Ah dunno. Yah know any good movies going now?"

"Well, I've heard that there is this movie with some chinese martial artists, but it's an 18." (A/N:At least in Norway, it is.)

"Let's see it." Sara could almost feel Rogue grinning.

***

They stopped outside the cinema, and Sara parked her bike.

"Ain't yah a bit scared 'bout anyone stealin' yah car?"

"Nope," Sara replied. "No one's dumb enough to steal a Harley."

"Why not?" Rogue asked curiously. 

"Usually it belongs ta some sort o' Hell's Angel, or somethin'."

"Like yah brothah?"

"Yeah."

They walked into the cinema, ignoring the cat whistle some guys throwed at them.

"Two tickets tah 'Romeo must die'," Rogue said to the ticket seller. (A/N: I try get that movie into every one of my stories if I get the chance at some point.)

The ticket seller looked up at her from his desk, calculating her behind his half spectacles. He seemed to think she looked mature enough, and shrugged.

"8 dollars, please," he said. (A/N: I don't know the movie's ticket prise in USA, so don't flame me if I got it wrong. I just guessed.)

Rogue handed him the money.

"I'll pay ya later," Sara said. "Care t' have some pop corn? We could buy it together." Rogue nodded and they went to the snacks disk.

***

"So, what d'ya think?" Sara said as they walked out of the cinema.

"It was great. But Ah understand why they rated it 18..."

"It wasn't _that_ much blood!" Sara protested.

"Nah, but tha story itself...so sombre."

"Yeah, I know what ya mean. But Jet Li _was_ a hottie..." They laughed. "Say, ya wanna eat somethin'? I'm starvin'."

Rogue laughed. "Me too. As long as it's not alive."

"Let's grab a burger, then."

***

"Why is it that yah are so familiar with tha twentieth century?" Rogue asked curiously. They were sitting in a Burger King, munching on their burgers.

"Well, I mostly had ta take care o' myself, so I learned quickly."

"But, didn't yah come here when yah were _thirteen_?"

"That's true. At first I lived in an orphanage. Buth when I was almost fifteen, I got bored an' ran away ta find my brother."

Rogue nodded and swallowed. "How did yah get yah bike?"

"Oh, that was fun," Sara grinned. "I won it."

"Yah _won_ it?" Rogue stared at her.

"Yeah. In a bet."

"What kinda bet?"

"I an' a guy had a drinkin' contest."

"Not...booze, right? Yah are under age..."

Sara's grin widened. "No, of course not. The barman didn't allow it. Nope, we saw who could drink the most water in ten minutes. I won: 30 pints. Of course," she said as an afterthought, "I had ta pee for two hours afterwards."

Rogue smiled. "But, ain't yah too young for a motor bike?"

"Yeah, but I never get controlled... 'sides, in one year's time I can drive it legally."

They laughed. After a little while, Rogue broke the silence, staring intently into her coke.

"Sara, is there something between yah an' Gambit?"

Sara stared at her for a moment. "I was wonderin' if ya would ask that," she said. Rogue turned a bright pink. "Relax, Rogue. I think he was just testin'. Me or Logan, I'm not sure which." Rogue looked relieved. Sara smiled. "Ya like 'im, don'tcha?" Rogue nodded, blushing more. "Well, I hope ya learn ta control yer powers, then." Sara smiled encouragingly at her. "Ya finished?"

They went out of the door and started driving home.

***

"Sara, can we stop for a moment? Ah've gottah pee."

"Sure, darlin'," Sara said, stopping outside a pub. "I'll just wait here."

Rogue went inside. Suddenly, Sara heard a noise. Like faltering footsteps. She looked around. Did it come from that alley? She went over to it and gasped.

A girl was lying on the ground. Her clothes was torn and various places there seeped blood out through them, and her black hair lay in tatters. Sara ran over to her. The girl looked up. She had Chinese features, and blood in her face from a cut in her forehead. A look of recognition came across her face as she looked at Sara.

"....Wolvie....?" she whispered, and fell over unconscouss.

A/N: Well, what d'ya think? And apologies to my terrible accent writing. You know how they speak.

Please review, that's what's making me write as fast as I can! Do you want me to continue? Well, I don't get to know if you don't review...*hint, hint* ^_^ Again, thanks to everybody who has reviewed. And remember: nothin's wrong with reviewin' this chapter to...*another hint* 

Nihao!

auroa borealis~


	3. Flashback

A/N:

A/N:

Author: I'm back!

Readers: Prove it!

Author: This story's a dick!

Readers: Okay!

Hrm. Sorry, had to have that dialogue. Anyway, have you missed me? Who I am? Oh, of course you wouldn't remember – it's over two months since last time I updated this story... Anyway, I have this enormous writer's block (damn, lazy muse who only wants holidays), so if it wasn't for Rin Berry's ::gasp!::, I probably wouldn't bother writing another chapter. Sorry guys, that's the truth. As for your question, Lillian N B: I seriously hope that you meant 200 years old, not 2000. If you meant 2000, somebody has really done something wrong when teaching you about (what's it's name?) what we mean with 18th century and so on. (18th century = the years 1700 to 1800.) And yes, he's probably about 250 years old, I think. A bit much, yes, but... it worked out that way.

Just so you know it: This chapter was really hard to write. I repeat: **_Really.Hard.To.Write._** So bear with me if it's bad. And just so you know it: It might take another two months to write the next chapter. Sorry. That's just the way it is. I hope not all of you have abandoned me. Oh, and blahblahblah means mindspeech. Now, I present:

****

Out of the Past

Chapter three: Flashbacks

__

***FLASHBACK***

She was running. She felt branches snatch after her clothes and hair, but didn't stop as she ran through the woods.

Who are you running from?

She could hear the hounds behind her, barking as they discovered her trail. The FOH-ers' hounds... She stifled back a sob, and ran down another trail. She could hear the river, faintly somewhere in front of her...

Who are you running to?

Wolvie. She had to find Wolvie. He was the only one who could save her... She didn't notice the tears that ran freely down her cheeks. She just ran.

The river was much louder now. Suddenly she tripped over a branch on the ground, hidden by moss and fallen leaves. She tumbled down a slope, getting a cut on her knee. She hardly noticed it. She picked up speed as the slope became a cliff, and she fell down and down and-

SPLASH!

The current of the river pulled her swiftly downstream. She tried to get her head over the water, but didn't have the strength needed to fight the strong current. Her lungs burned for air. She groped after a rock to pull herself up with, and got more cuts for her effort. At least she got over the water long enough to take a swift gasp of air before the current dragged her under again.

She recognised the increasing booming of the waterfall and the river picking up speed too late. The last thing she thought as she fell down the waterfall and hit the foaming water under it, was: At least the FOH'ers won't find me after all this water.

__

Then her forehead hit a rock, and all went black.

***END OF FLASHBACK*** 

She drifted through a grey haze, as if in half doze. Voices drifted to her ear.

"Are she gonna be okay, Hank?" It was Wolvie. She could have cried in relief at hearing that dear, familiar voice.

"For the hundreth time, Logan, _yes._ She just has some rest to make up for."

She opened her eyes slowly. Her lids felt like they weighed a ton. She was in the med lab. To one side of her bed Hank was busying himself with some read-outs on a computer. To the other long side stood-

"Wolvie!" she cried out and flung herself at him, ending up hugging his waist (she was still lying in the bed).

"Hey, easy there, darlin'," he smiled as she scooped herself up into a sitting position. She felt a warm glow inside herself and smiled back. _I always **could** make him smile._ They looked at each other.

"Ya okay?" Logan asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," she smiled.

He relaxed a little. "Um, there's someone I want ya ta meet," he said and stepped a little aside so a blonde girl she hadn't noticed before came into more view.

"Uh, hi," she (not the blonde) said. She looked from the girl to Wolvie and back again. Two pairs of steel grey eyes. "Oh. It wasn't Wolvie who found me, was it?"

"No," the girl said.

"So, she steeled herself for the worst, "who are you?"

Logan cleared his throat a little. "Sara, this is Jubilee," he said. "Jubes, this is, uh, my little sister..."


	4. Shopping with the Mall Rat

A/N: Do you remember me? Wow. I'm surprised. After all, it took me…six months? to write this chapter… I'm very sorry for that. I got a (small) idea for a chapter during summer break, but then I got so many other ideas so I didn't manage to write on ANY of my stories! I HATE writer's block! *growls while advancing on the Writer's Block with a baseball bat*  
  
Also a very big thanks to Moonchild DJ for beta-reading this for me!  
  
1.1 Out of the Past  
  
1.2 Chapter Four: Shopping with the Mall Rat  
  
Jubilee hummed softly to herself as she went through the drawers in her old room at the Mansion. She picked up a pink calf-length skirt, and held it to her, looking in the full-length mirror.  
  
"Nope," she said to herself and threw it in the rising pile of discarded clothes in one corner. She looked at a pair of dark blue jeans, considered it, then pulled them on. She couldn't get the top-most button shut.  
  
When did I ever get hips? she wondered, pulling the jeans off again and throwing in the 'discard pile'. Oh, yeah. I've gone a year in college. Guess I fattened up while studying. She studied herself in the mirror. Not a single drop of fat in sight. Or maybe not. Her eyes drifted around the room, and landed on the poster of Spice Girls. Yuck. I can't believe I actually listened to that. 'Girl Power' my ass. I've been away too long. She smiled a little, both sad and happy. But now I'm back. Jubes the Firecracker will ride again!  
  
Just then, someone knocked on the door. She put on a dressing robe and opened it.  
  
"Can I come in?" Logan asked. His eyes was darting around the corridor, as if he was expecting someone to punch down on him any minute.  
  
"Uh, yeah, sure," Jubilee said. Wolverine quickly went into her room and sat down. He sniffed the air suspiciously  
  
- as if he had to make sure we were the only ones here –  
  
and visibly relaxed. He reached into his inner pocket and produced a box of highly illegal Cuban cigars. He – after sniffing the air once again – lit it.  
  
What the-! He bursts into my room just to smoke?!  
  
"Wolvie, what are you-" She stopped at his motion to be silent. He puffed on the cigar a little to make it burn, and inhaled deeply.  
  
"Ahhhh," he said and blew out slowly. Jubilee looked at him, her hands on her hips.  
  
"Well?" she asked.  
  
"Well what?" He looked up at her. She merely raised an eyebrow. He sighed. "She's killin' me, Jubes," he said. "She won't let me smoke."  
  
"Who?" Jubilee asked, puzzled.  
  
"Sara. Whenever she finds me smokin', she confiscates my cigars. Won't give 'em back." He took a pull on the cigar, and sighed contently. "At least that damn teenager didn't find these babies." He patted the box of Cuban cigars affectionately.  
  
"Wolvie...the 'damn teenager' is your little sister."  
  
"Yeah," Logan sighed. He gave her a side-look. "Ya will keep tight on this, won't ya, Jubes? I've had ta keep ta lollipops fer four weeks." Jubilee let out a little giggle at the mental image. He growled at her.  
  
"Aw, I'm sorry," she said, patting him on the head. If anyone else had done that, they would have found themselves encountering an adamantium-hardened fist. At least that hasn't changed, Jubilee thought. "So, how did you get yourself in this fix?"  
  
Logan grimaced, and stomped his cigar-end out. "I guess she wanted to be even fer me tryin' ta throw her clothes out the window."  
  
"You what?!"  
  
"What's so wrong with that? Have ya seen her wardrobe?" He didn't wait for Jubilee's answer. "It's all black. Black army boots. Black jeans and leather pants. Black tops, sweaters, leather jacket-"  
  
"Okay, I get the idea. So what? A lot of people dress all in black." Wolverine growled again. "...Okay, so they're usually either depressive, mourning or members of the gothic community."  
  
"Ya forgot the bikers."  
  
"Okay, the bikers – and some punks while you're at it – too. So what's so bad about that?"  
  
"I don't like it."  
  
"You used to say my style was hurting your eyes," Jubilee pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, but..." Logan almost slammed his fist in the wall in frustration. Jubilee was glad he didn't – she didn't want a hole in her wall.  
  
She sighed. Oh, hell. Why not? "Looks like I have to save your sorry ass once again, doesn't it, Wolvster?"  
  
***  
  
"Computer, end program."  
  
Sara looked up at the Control Room where the Professor, Scott Summers and Hank McCoy had been watching, and grinned at them. Xavier motioned for her to come up, and she obliged.  
  
"So what did ya think?" she asked, catching the towel Beast threw at her.  
  
"I must say you have gained a great control of your powers, regarding your age."  
  
"Why, thank you, Hank."  
  
"Say, where did you learn hand-to-hand combat? I thought the women had to do the household work and only that in the old times."  
  
"Yer right there, Scott," Sara said. "But I've picked up some tricks here an' there. Not that I'm any good at it yet."  
  
"Well, we'll fix that soon enough," Charles replied. "Have you thought about a code name?"  
  
"Why, Charlie darlin'," Sara said and grinned at his obvious shock at the nick name, "I thought 'Chameleon' was obvious."  
  
"...Right. You'll have to get a uniform, too, soon, Chameleon."  
  
"Does that mean I'm on the team?"  
  
I would certainly think so. Charles mentally winked at her.  
  
"Well, I'll see ya guys later in trainin'," Sara said, giving the three men a brilliant smile. "Later then, Red Beam, BB. I'm off to the shower."  
  
"BB?"  
  
"Blue Butt."  
  
The two X-men and their mentor were silent for a whole minute after she was gone. Scott waited a long moment before breaking the silence.  
  
"What is it about the Logans and nick names?"  
  
***  
  
Sara was just drying her hair when someone knocked on her door. She secured her bathrobe and went out of the bathroom. "Come in," she called.  
  
"Hi," Jubilee said. "I was just wondering...would you like to go shopping with me?"  
  
Sara was taken by complete surprise. "Huh?" she asked 'intelligently'.  
  
"Do you want to go shopping with me," Jubilee repeated. "It seems I need some new clothes, and I just wondered..."  
  
"Wolvie asked ya ta do this, right?" It was more like a statement than a question.  
  
"Um, yeah," Jubilee confessed. "He's getting a bit sick of this "no cigars"- diet..."  
  
"Some diet," Sara snorted. "But it's only because he always pesters me about my clothes, y'know."  
  
"Yeah, I got that impression."  
  
"Oh, why not. At least ya can try an' find some clothes both Logan and I like," Sara sighed. "But let me warn ya: It won't be easy."  
  
"Don't worry," Jubilee, the ex-mall rat, said and grinned. "I'll find something. Oh, and I do need some stuff myself."  
  
"Right. Where and when?"  
  
"The kitchen, thirty minutes?"  
  
"Fine by me. D'ya drive or do we take my bike?"  
  
"What kinda bike?" Jubilee asked suspiciously.  
  
"Harley."  
  
"We take the bike."  
  
***  
  
"Sara, have you found one garment you like yet?" Jubilee asked, her hands on her hips and a resigned look on her face.  
  
"Well, there's those really great pants with the camouflage pattern that ya didn't want me ta buy," Sara said.  
  
"Wolvie wouldn't like them."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"You do know about Weapon X, right?" Jubilee asked.  
  
"Oh, shoot, I forgot about that."  
  
"See? You always have to take something in consideration when you're handling something to do with Wolvie." Jubilee looked around the store. "Come on," she said, "let's go to another shop. We won't find anything more in this one."  
  
"Ya mean yer not goin' ta find anythin' more in this one," Sara replied, glancing with a raised eyebrow at the four shopping bags Jubilee was carrying.  
  
"It's not like I've bought everything in this one," Jubilee said, feeling a bit self-conscious.  
  
"No, half the stuff ya bought in the other six shops we've been to."  
  
"You know, now that I think of it you can carry some of the bags."  
  
"Aw, Jubes!"  
  
"Do you have any bags?"  
  
"All right, all right, I'll carry yer stinkin' bags." Sara mock-glared at Jubilee, who grinned back.  
  
"Let's go try this shop!" she said enthusiastically. Sara groaned and followed the shop-o-maniac.  
  
***  
  
It took two more hours of shopping before Sara found something she liked. She positively dragged Jubilee by the arm over to a stand.  
  
"What about this one?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"Sara," Jubilee said in an exasperated tone, "those are men's pants."  
  
"So?" Sara said, getting that stubborn look that everyone in the mansion had learned to fear – not necessarily when she arrived. "There's lots of girls goin' around with trousers for men."  
  
"I dunno about the colour…" Jubilee said dubiously.  
  
"Oh, come on," Sara said, grabbing some pants of the right size and heading to the fitting room. "He has to survive army-green, right? After all, he hasn't complained about my boots."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Jubilee said, giving up. "But that reminds me of something. You have to get some new shoes."  
  
***  
  
"Sit there," Jubilee ordered. "I'm going to find some pairs you can look at." Sara sighed and obliged, sitting down on a bench with leather upholstery. She looked around the shoe store and wrinkled her nose. She had never really liked shopping for shoes – they were either too narrow, too expensive, had horrible colours, didn't have her size or had simply too high heels. She liked her army boots. They didn't leak, gave an impression of authority and had this nice steel cap on the toes that was really handy if she got pissed at someone.  
  
She was pulled out of her musings by Jubilee returning, her head barely peeking up over the pile of shoes she was carrying. "There!" she said with a satisfied air. "Maybe you'll find something you like now."  
  
"Um, I could just go around an' look for myself, y'know," Sara said, looking at the heap of shoes.  
  
"Don't you dare," Jubilee almost growled.  
  
"Okay, sorry I asked."  
  
"You wouldn't even find one pair, anyway."  
  
"Ya got a point." Sara picked up a pair of high-heeled, pink shoes. "Nope," she said, putting them to the side of the bench.  
  
"You haven't even tried them!" Jubilee protested.  
  
"I'm not colour-blind, ya know. I've got some taste."  
  
"They weren't that bad."  
  
"Yes they were." Sara looked at another pair of high-heeled shoes, this time light blue. "Nope."  
  
"If you're not taking them, I will," Jubilee warned.  
  
"Suit yerself. I ain't got any time ta wobble around on those heels."  
  
"Say that to Storm."  
  
"At least she can fly."  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
***  
  
There were two quite exhausted young girls that finally made it back to the mansion after six hours of shopping.  
  
"Oh, there you are," Storm smiled, greeting them at the door. "I was wondering when you two would show up. I'll heat some food for you."  
  
"Thanks, 'Ro," Jubilee said, smiling tiredly at the other woman. They followed her into the kitchen, and sat down at the table.  
  
"So, did you find anything nice?" Ororo asked as she put half a pizza in the oven for warming.  
  
"What does it look like?" Sara said sarcastically, nodding to the many shopping bags on the table.  
  
"Ah," Ororo smiled again, "what I meant was: Did you find anything nice?"  
  
"Yeah." Sara returned the smile. "Those two bags are mine."  
  
"Hey!" Jubilee protested. "I'm not that bad, y'know!"  
  
"Oh, so those other eight bags aren't yours? Sorry, Jubilee. My mistake."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, they're mine," Jubilee grumbled. "And there's only seven."  
  
"I apologize," Storm said, a smile crossing her lips. Sara snickered. Jubilee sighed.  
  
"I have improved, y'know," she said. "I only bought so much because the Prof' said he was paying."  
  
"Ah," Storm said. "Did he know that you would be buying stuff, too?"  
  
Jubilee frowned a little before smiling. "Now that I think about it, he probably thought that Sara would do most of the shopping…" She laughed. "Imagine his face when he sees the bill!"  
  
The two other women looked at her in surprise. Then they too pictured Charles Xavier's face, and burst into laughter.  
  
A/N: I hope you liked it. I wasn't quite satisfied with it, but I'm fighting the writer's block here… 


End file.
